It Started with a Dog, page 11
Here.
He was here? She walked into the living area and texted, Like HERE? Or in the parking lot?
The three dots appeared, and then a picture popped up of the display window at Mandola’s. The Italian eatery and deli was about a half a block from her apartment. In the middle of the frame was an Italian cream cake. “Nice,” she murmured under her breath. That is the most gorg
Her door buzzed and Harper jumped. And inadvertently sent the half-written text. She went to the door and peeked through the peephole to see Jonah grinning back at her.
She opened the door. He was wearing a ball cap with the bill turned to the back of his head and a black hoodie. He held up a paper bag. “Okay, I don’t know how you feel about sugar or cake, but judging by your Insta—”
“Get in here,” Harper said, and wrapped her fingers around his wrist and yanked him inside.
He laughed as he bounced across the threshold. He paused to take in her small apartment. Harper reached down to take the bag from his hand, and when she did, she noticed that he was wearing the exact same joggers as her. Gray Adidas, with the signature black stripes down the side, cuffed at the ankle. A giggle of mortification escaped her.
Jonah turned back to her. She pointed to their sweats. “Wow,” he said, and took off his cap, ran his hand over the top of his head, and reseated the cap. “This is a first.”
“Jonah . . . are we dorks?” she asked in faux horror.
“Wait . . . yes,” he said, feigning horror, too. “You look amazing in yours.”
The compliment flustered her, and heat crept up her neck. “Thank you. So do you.” Her gaze fell to the bag. “Did you really bring cake?”
“I did.”
“That is a move.” She smiled. “I love cake.”
“If you didn’t, I’d have to end this now.”
“You would be totally justified. My best friend Olivia dated an Ironman competitor once, and he didn’t let anything that wasn’t a whole, natural food pass his lips.”
“Hideous bastard.”
“The worst.” She grinned. “Come in! Let me put this in the fridge and grab my wallet and keys.”
He followed her the few steps necessary to put them in the middle of her small apartment. She went into her kitchen and placed the bag into her refrigerator. She had to do a quick reorganization of one shelf to make room for it, and some things went into spaces that she didn’t like, because Harper liked to keep her food groups together, categorized by type and meal, such as breakfast, lunch, or dinner . . . but she would fix that later.
Jonah stood in the middle of the living area, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, looking around. “This is . . .” He seemed to look for the right word.
“Small, I know. But it has the hardwoods and quartz countertops and you can’t beat the location.”
“I was going to say tidy.”
“Oh!” She was a bit of a minimalist, that was true, and firmly believed that there was a place for everything and everything in its place.
“Am I crazy? Or did you measure to make sure there was equidistance between these framed photos?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Guilty.”
“And there is not a speck of dust on the shelves. Or a thing out of place.”
“That’s not true! That vase isn’t supposed to be there.” She pointed to the blue vase in the middle of her dining table.
Jonah looked at it, nodding. “I admire people who can do tidy. It’s definitely not a state of being I can achieve.”
“Most people can’t achieve this level of tidy. I might have a bit of a problem.” She smiled and picked up her wallet and her car fob.
“Any other problems besides excessive tidiness?” He walked to the shelving and her perfectly spaced pictures and leaned forward to look at them. “Any strange phobias? Irrational fears?”
“I don’t think so.”
He looked at her pictures. She had only a few. When she’d first moved to Austin and rented the apartment, she’d thought the location was temporary until she could decide what part of town she wanted to live in. She hadn’t unpacked everything. The boxes were neatly stacked, cataloged, and color-coded in her storage unit in the garage.
“Who is this?” he asked.
“Mom and Dad. My grandmother, Mimi.”
He moved on to the next photo, of her and Olivia and some other friends in Jamaica. “That was taken a few years ago.” She pointed at Olivia. “My best friend.”
She watched how he leaned forward a little. But he didn’t look at Olivia—his attention went back to her parents. And then he looked at another photo, one a stranger had taken of Harper at the Charles de Gaulle Airport. She was standing at the gate, her backpack strapped to her back, holding her passport. She was beaming, because she was the happiest person in the world that day.
“Where was this taken?”
“Paris. That was part of my college graduation present to me from me.”
“What?”
“I decided if I graduated with honors, I would reward myself with a trip around the world. I saved up the money for years. I graduated with honors, and I did it.”
“Around the world? By yourself?”
“Yep.”
He looked at the picture. Then at her. “That’s kind of sad.”
“Sad? It was a great experience. And I needed that time to myself. You know, to figure out who I was.”
“Huh. So did you? Figure out who you were?”
“No.” She laughed. “What can I say? I was young and optimistic. But I learned a lot about myself and the world.”
“Like?”
“Like, I don’t handle situations well if I don’t have a solid plan. I’m not spontaneous and I panic if there’s too much that’s loosey-goosey. But,” she said, holding up a finger, “I also learned that I am a creative problem solver. And I learned that you can get a Big Mac in any corner of the world. Any corner. Name a corner, and there is a McDonald’s nearby.” She glanced at the picture of herself in her Rice hoodie and her hair so long that she’d had to keep it in one thick braid. “That trip is when I discovered I like to have a list and cross things off of it. See the Eiffel Tower, check. Take a boat down the Danube, check. Eat weird stuff in Seoul, check.”
“Oh, I can imagine that list,” he said. “I got your calendar notices for a week, and ninety-five percent of them were notices about your many lists.”
“I feel exposed. You couldn’t have seen that many.”
“Let’s see if I can remember. ‘Eat healthy,’ ” he said, holding up a finger. “ ‘Meditate for ten minutes.’ ” Another finger. “My personal fave, ‘Order pizza,’ closely followed by a ‘Check to see if Lombardi’s makes personal-sized pizzas,’ followed by the words ‘pepperoni,’ ‘black olive,’ and ‘onion.’ ” He held up a third finger. “That is a woman who wants to make sure no pepperoni is left behind.”
“Oh my God, I am a dork.”
He laughed and put his arms around her, hugging her close. “You are an adorable dork, which makes it okay.” He kissed her forehead. Then her lips, lingering a moment. “You want to go walk some dogs?”
“I really, really do.”
He took her hand, wrapped his long fingers around hers and held firmly. She felt like she was floating—this man had seen her lists and he was still here.
Ten
The Austin Canine Coalition, or the ACC as it was known around town, was a citywide consortium combining the forces of several local dog rescue organizations into one. Austin was a no-kill city, so groups that couldn’t find appropriate and permanent placement for their dogs took them to the ACC. The ACC, funded by donations and city grants, then attempted to train those dogs as companions and therapy dogs. The dogs served as comfort buddies to veterans, to kids who had to testify in court, to autistic youth in the classroom. They appeared at medical and senior centers, in children’s hospitals and hospice facilities.
The dogs that flunked out of the ACC training program were put up for adoption. While they waited for their forever home, they lived on fifteen shaded acres in the heart of Austin, where they romped under the boughs of some grand old live oak trees and played on preschool play sets and cooled off in kiddie pools shaped like paws and dog bones.
When Jonah and Harper arrived at the facility that chilly afternoon, several dogs were out for group play. Those that weren’t lounging on the play sets were chasing one another around the acreage. Even more were sitting at the fence, waiting for the attention of anyone who happened to walk by.
A woman at the volunteer station had bright pink hair tied in two knots on top of her head, and a large cupcake tattooed just above her cleavage.
“Hi, Cinder,” Harper said. “How’s Bob today?” She handed her driver’s license to the woman.
“I haven’t seen him yet. But he’s always happy to see you, Harper.”
Harper snorted. “No, he’s not. But thanks for pretending.”
“If you come here enough that Bob is happy to see you, why don’t you adopt him?” Jonah asked as the woman stepped aside for a moment.
“I’ve thought about it. He’s been here almost three months. He’s blind in one eye and has selective hearing and he’s super grumpy, so he’s not a big winner with kids.”
“Old dog, huh?”
“Seven or eight years old, I think. But you saw my apartment. Where would I put a dog? This is the best of both worlds. I get to hang out with Bob, and then I go home to my tiny space with no yard.”
The woman handed the license back to Harper, then turned a dazzling smile to Jonah. “Are you a frequent flyer, too?”
“Nope. First time.” He handed his license to her.
“We promise to be gentle with you your first time,” Cinder said, and she and Jonah laughed.
Jonah signed the usual waivers. Cinder asked them to wait in a gazebo while she fetched the dogs. But Jonah and Harper both started for the fence without hesitation, to where dogs hoped for attention. It was a mistake—dogs were suddenly barking and jumping on the fence, vying for that limited attention, certain something exciting was about to happen. Jonah grabbed Harper’s hand, and laughing, they retreated to the gazebo.
A bench had been installed around the entire circumference of the gazebo, and the shutters had been opened to the chill air. In between the open spaces were signs, petitions, and posters tacked to the wall. Dog sitters, guitars for sale, rentals available in the neighborhood, a local theater production. In the middle of one section was the largest poster:
King Mutt!
A Mardi Gras Tradition
Vote with your dollars for your favorite mutt from Austin Canine Coalition at all participating locations!
All proceeds will go to benefit the Austin Canine Coalition
For information visit www.auscanineco.com
Keep Austin Weird!
“That’s interesting,” Harper said.
“They do it every year during Mardi Gras,” Jonah explained. “Businesses sponsor rescues from the ACC. They keep vote jars and people vote with their dollars for their favorite dog. At the end of the fundraising drive, the dog with the most money wins the title of King Mutt. Look, see?” He pointed to a picture at the bottom of the poster. An Afghan hound sat regally on a stage. What looked like a cardboard crown was tipping off its skinny head. It also wore a sash—King Mutt.
“Is there ever a Queen Mutt?”
“Don’t think so.” He glanced at her sidelong. “Branding, you know.”
“Here they are!”
They turned around to see Cinder with two dogs. Jonah first noticed the English bulldog. He was missing half of one ear and walked with a slight limp—one leg seemed to jut out at an awkward angle. But he motored along nonetheless, all business.
The other dog was a white Chihuahua with black eyes that bugged out of its head and ears that pointed straight up. The dog couldn’t have weighed more than five pounds and was a quivering mess of nerves.
“Hey, Bob!” Harper went down on one knee to greet the bulldog. Bob stopped walking a good foot from her, just out of reach, and sat. He glared past her, to Jonah, with one slightly milky eye, one clear. His lower teeth jutted out from his jaw, and his belly was at least three rolls thick. Bob wasn’t missing any meals.
“I know. I’m late,” Harper said apologetically. She reached forward and tried to scratch him behind his good ear, but Bob dipped his head, snorted, and looked toward the gate.
“Well . . . here’s Bob,” Harper said, rising to her feet. She was all smiles for that grumpy bulldog. “He’s not the friendliest pup at the ACC.”
“That’s for sure,” Cinder said jovially. “He’s very particular. This is Snowball.” She held Snowball up as if she was offering her as a gift to Jonah. Snowball was shaking so hard, Jonah worried she would pass out.
Harper took Bob’s lead from Cinder. Bob instantly came up to his lopsided all fours and pointed his body toward the gate, ready to proceed.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to carry Snowball,” Cinder said. “At least in the beginning.”
“No walking for her?” Jonah asked uncertainly.
“She’ll walk once she gets used to you.” Cinder said this with great confidence and held the dog out to him again.
Bob yipped, and Jonah had the impression the old boy was annoyed at being made to wait. As if to confirm it, he yipped again. In the meantime, Jonah had taken Snowball, who looked on the verge of busting into a full-scale panic attack at any moment.
“Thirty minutes,” Cinder said. “And please don’t cross Anderson Lane. We nearly had a terrible incident the other day.”
“Oh no!” Harper said.
Cinder nodded. “There’s a popular bar just across Anderson Lane and our walkers lost track of time. It was two-for-one margaritas.”
“That’s too hard to pass up.”
“It’s a wonder they didn’t lose the dogs, they were there so long! We had volunteers walking up and down Anderson looking for them before they came stumbling back.”
“We won’t cross Anderson Lane,” Harper promised. “We’ll go in the direction of the greenbelt.” She looked at Jonah. “Ready?”
“I—” Before he could speak, Snowball tried to leap from his arms, her front legs frantically pawing air in the direction of Cinder. Jonah held her firm. “I don’t think she wants to go.”
“She’s always like that. She’ll be fine once you get going,” Cinder said. She was already walking away. “Have a good walk!”
Bob, on the other hand, was straining against the leash Harper held. The moment she gave Bob a little slack, he shot out, causing Harper to stumble. “He’s stronger than he looks,” she shouted over her shoulder at Jonah.
They started off at a brisk pace, Bob rumbling along like a little tank at a pace that seemed impossible, given the length and bend of his legs. Harper and Jonah had to walk quickly to keep up. At the street corner, Harper tried to go right, but Bob went left. He clearly had a destination in mind.
“Come on, Bob,” Harper pleaded. “You’re embarrassing me. Jonah thinks you mind me.”
Bob took a seat in protest, looking away from them, refusing to go another step.
Harper looked at Jonah. “What do you think?”
“I think Bob is really determined.”
“Fine, Bob. We’ll do it your way,” she said, and allowed Bob to lead.
He led them a half block up to where an alley met the street. It ran behind a strip mall. There was a distinct odor . . . and not a bad one.
“Is that donuts I smell?” Jonah asked.
Harper gasped. “Yes! There’s a donut shop on this corner.”
She was a little breathless because Bob was now trying to pull her down the alley and having some luck. “You have to hand it to Bob,” she said, straining against his pull. “One, that he could sniff that out with his squashed nose. And two, he’s clearly been here before.” Bob tugged on the leash. “No way,” Harper said. “What kind of volunteer would I be if I let you eat donuts out of the trash? What if they wouldn’t let me come see you anymore, then what would you do? This way,” she insisted, and forced the dog around. He barked at her, but he reluctantly came along.
Jonah put Snowball down, who had finally agreed to walk, and they went back the way they’d come. After a few blocks, they turned onto a path that ran through an urban greenbelt. Bob pulled over at a bench in the shade of an oak tree. He marched right up to it and went underneath it and stretched out on his belly. The only things visible were his hind paws, which peeked out from beneath the bench.
Snowball pawed Jonah’s leg. He picked her up as they took a seat on the bench, and he held the small dog in his lap. Bob began to snore. Harper put the lead down and stretched her legs out long in front of her. She stacked her hands behind the back of her head and smiled up at the branches of the tree. “This is a gorgeous day. What does your weather app say we have in store for next week?”
“Rain.”
“Is that all it said? When I had your phone, it had a lot to say.”
“That’s all the weather app said. But my NBA app said the All-Star game is this week.” He brushed a bit of hair from her cheek. “I’m a huge basketball fan.”
“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite basketball?”
Jonah laughed. “Remind me again how you are single?”
“I know, right?” she said, pretending to be mystified. “They should be lined up around the block.”
“I’m serious,” he said. “Why are you single?”
“Why not?” She gave him a sidelong look. “It’s okay to be single.”
